“Joy”—his voice was a long way off, like the echo of a vanished heart-beat—“I—must—think. I’ve—got—to—think.” Still incredulous, she stood motionless, watching. “I’ve got to—think!” And she was alone in the big living-room. V ” What kind of girls you were living with and what kind of a life you lead—from man to man instead of hand to mouth——” Joy had turned the words over in her whirling brain all night. One thing alone was certain; she must see Packy, find out what he meant—what Packy had insinuated about herself in particular—what he knew, about Sarah and Jerry—— Jerry came in about ten o’clock in her favourite purple satin and pink mules, first poking a freckled nose around the door to see if she was awake. “Didn’t disturb you last night because I thought if there was any sleep to be had, you ought to have it,” she announced. She regarded Jerry from beneath tired eyelids, with a sick feeling of disloyalty. Jerry was the best friend she had; she knew that;—and yet, she knew just as surely that she could not picture Grant meeting her. What could Packy have meant——Watching Jerry’s unconscious face, she could not bring herself to repeat Packy’s quoted words—to tell Jerry anything of what had passed. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more?” Jerry was saying, after a keen scrutiny of her. “You look dead, and you’ve got nothing on hand this A.M.—it’s just as well to hang off when you can.” Joy fell back into bed, and Jerry pulled down the black and white-striped shades before tiptoeing out. From the first moment that she had known Jerry, she had liked her. Jerry had never been anything to Joy but an unselfish, true friend. If it had not been for Jerry, the glory of music that Pa was unfolding to her would never have been hers. If it had not been for Jerry, she would never have met Grant—never have known. . . . But now—now, what did she owe Jerry? Grant had said, he had to—think. How long—how long would he—think? She had had only a few hours of fitful slumber—something that Jerry had divined with one solicitous glance. Jerry had gone out and left her without trying to talk, which might fully have awakened her. What had Packy meant? She sank into a comatose state from which, contrary to the will of her weary brain, she fell into a heavy sleep. About four o’clock, she woke with a raging headache. Jerry had closed the windows, as the room faced on a court and was noisy in the daytime, and the air was envelopingly turgid. She dressed slowly, realizing as she became more awake that she had not really eaten for more than twenty-four hours. To ransack the kitchen at this time of the day was hopeless, she knew. There was no solution but to walk down to the nearest dairy lunch, which was quite a distance.